At the start of the 6th inning during Game 3 of the World Series, the entire Mets stadium stood up to cancer. The fans, players, umpires, even the big wigs in the boxes all stood holding, “STAND UP FOR ____" placards with the name of someone they know who has battled or is battling cancer written on it.
Watching with Sam from here in the hospital, I was stunned by the visualization. It reminded me, as has Facebook, my friends, my own family and my life with Sam, that no family is immune to this disease. In some way, we have all been affected as we have watched Sam and many other loved ones fight this mess. I’ve been wrestling a lot over how to write the rest of this post and about how you would all feel if I told you the truth. I considered rose coloring it, or not writing at all. But I decided to tell the truth. While I know it will hurt to hear, I also know it has given me a deep respect for Sam and many others’ ability to fight. The truth demands I/we remain positive. It begs us not lose sight of who he/they really are – that although this all-encompassing disease is dominating life right now, it won’t be like this forever. It reminds me that my husband isn’t a weak, bed-ridden cancer patient. He is a caring, smart, and incredibly strong individual with a contagious zest for life that endears him to many, and that has permanently changed my entire outlook on the world. So here is the truth. This week was a low, low point for Sam. The cells in his mouth and his esophagus, which most of us regenerate millions per day, have temporarily stopped regenerating. This means that his mouth and esophagus have become raw and painful and have left him unable to swallow anything (liquids, pills, any food, even his own saliva). Any movement or sitting up makes him choke, so he stays in the fetal position or flat on his back most of the day. He’s been getting IV nutrition since Wednesday and has been barely able to speak since Monday. His nausea needs to be managed consistently otherwise a spell of vomiting will wake him up. He is getting rashes on his hands and feet from the drugs, which leave them feeling and looking like they were dunked in boiling water. Every new little symptom - nosebleeds, bruising from shots, extreme thirst from not being able to swallow - are insult to a very injured body and spirit. Cancer took away so much over the past five months, and then when he was thin and weak, it handed him a heavy shield and a rusty sword and told him to start fighting harder than before. The doctor told us this morning that he has another week to ten days of this before she expects to see those cells regenerate in his mouth and esophagus. It has been awful to watch. I can’t imagine having to endure it myself, yet I wish so badly I could bear his pain for even an hour to give him a break from it all. I know many of you do too. This painful time has given me an opportunity to appreciate Sam and his attitude in so many ways; along with this similar fighting attitude among others I know who have fought cancer. Even in these dark days, I’ve seen the ‘pilot light of hope’ crackle up to a full-blown fire within him. Though he suffers, he is doing it. He’s taking things one single moment at a time. Despite it all, he’s not depressed. He’s just moving forward. He operates knowing that each minute gone is a minute done. He’s amazing. Me? Well, I’ll admit first of all that I was pretty pissed at daylight savings this year (another hour of this suffering?!). I might not be inclined to stand up to cancer. I’d really prefer to kick it and spit in its face. But I know anger like that isn’t helpful or necessary. So instead, I’ll appreciate with you the fight it has brought out in Sam and in so many others that we love and have loved. I’ll celebrate the powerful, beautiful flame it ignites in its patients, families and communities. I’ll acknowledge the brave, incredible and strong battles lost, but also commend those who have fought and won. And to Sam and anyone suffering now, for however long it takes: I’ll stand with you, and hope with you, and share in the knowledge that these dark days will not last forever.
Lorraine Stevenson
11/1/2015 12:50:29 pm
Thank you for this candid report. I and many of my friends and family members have also watched a loved one suffer with this horrible disease. I just want you to know we admire you and Sam for your strength and courage and that I and many of my friends are upholding you and Sam in prayer each day. 11/2/2015 05:37:43 am
Reading your profoundly candid update about Sam, I continue to be so moved, and so appreciate what Sam and you and the rest of his family are living with. What a warrior you are Sam, in this fight for your life. So embracing you with my love and prayers as you endure this suffering and your healthy cells divide and multiply by the billions and trillions. As the salmon continue swimming upstream laying their eggs.... Thank you Jenny...
DAD
11/2/2015 07:32:16 am
To the best of our abilities we ARE staying strong on Sam's behalf, and we encourage you to stay strong and courageous also. We stand in the gap with you, truly wanting to take away his pain. Comments are closed.
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